The Thinnest Blade
by The Unstoppable Hug Machine
Summary: Her husband in Azkaban and her son endangered, Narcissa feels alone. Her sister is not particularly comforting. Set shortly before the Unbreakable Vow with Snape.


Narcissa Malfoy's world had become rather small lately.

Draco was her son, and he could not hide the hurt in his voice.

"You don't believe I can do it."

Of course she believed he could do it --her son was a brilliant young wizard, more than worthy of his noble blood. She wanted to hold him like the child he still was and tell him he could do anything he set his mind to in this great big world. But he was her son --nearly all that kept her in this world, and she was afraid. It ached not to tell him.

_She was tip-toe on the tiniest, gleaming point at the edge of the world she once knew. The fall was fatal in every direction._

"Little boy, go to bed." Bellatrix said roughly, straightening herself in the high-backed chair.

Draco flushed but knew better than to argue with his aunt. He left the room with a single, silent stride and Narcissa watched him climb the stairs before turning to her sister with trembling eyes.

"May I offer you a drink?" Two tumblers of amber liquid and ice appeared before Narcissa.

"Ogden's Old. Vintage. Lucius wouldn't be pleased if he knew, would he?" Bellatrix smiled, toothy and vaguely predatory as she reached for a glass. "I recall he was rather protective of his store."

"He would understand." Narcissa swirled the amber liquid in the glass, ice crackling and tinkling against the fine cut-crystal tumbler.

"You seem to need it more than I. What's the occasion, Cissy?"

_Narcissa looked out at the fall at the edge of her narrow world. The threat of falling grew closer and closer as the heights grew more dizzying and swaying than ever._ Her heart stammered.

"You're my sister. It's good to see you."

Bellatrix laughed sharply. "We both know I'd never believe that. It must be something else." She leaned forward, her dark eyes narowing. "Shall we run down the list? Your husband, in Azkaban. Your son--"

Narcissa stood suddenly, firewhisky splashing furiously from her glass. "He's being punished," Her voice broke and she spoke quickly, tears welling in her blue eyes. "He's being punished for Lucius's mistake." _A blade. Her thin little sliver of a world had become the tip of a blade pressed to her back, compelling her ever forward with the threat of blood._ "Bella, help me..."

She searched her sister's face pleadingly. Bellatrix rose from her chair in a dramatic, fluid movement and met her sister face-to-face. "Oh, sister..," She stroked Narcissa's cheek with her thumb and Bellatrix's hand was like a coiling fire. "You're crying?"

Narcissa's shoulders shook and she swallowed against the tightening in her throat. She didn't like to cry; she lost all her grace when she cried. Bellatrix cooed and pulled her sister to her chest. Narcissa could hear the calm, even heart beating within. _Her husband was gone and her son was lingering in the doorway between life and death. Her sister did not care. Narcissa's blade-thin world could scarcely get smaller, but it could get much colder._

Tucking a finger under her sister's pointed chin, Bellatrix turned Narcissa's face to meet hers. "Cissy, it is an _honor_. The Dark Lord has the utmost faith in your son's abilities. He would only trust his most faithful servants--"

At those words, hope hit her --solid, sudden and heavy. There was no choice. "I'm going to see him."

"Who--?"

"He'll be at Hogwarts," Narcissa was already in the antechamber, buttoning her traveling cloak with trembling fingers. "He can watch over Draco, and--"

Bellatrix's face shattered. "No! Cissy, you can't trust him--"

Shoulders straightening, Narcissa looked plainly into her sister's face. There was a stinging, almost-mad desperation in those heavy-lidded eyes, something Narcissa had never seen before Bellatrix went to Azkaban.

_Would Lucius bring those eyes back with him?_

Her throat tightened again.

_The blade-edge world gleamed blindingly. If she fell now, she would fall forever._

Narcissa gripped her wand tightly.

_A sharp, tiny thread-edge of a cold blade, her world was narrower than ever._

Bellatrix was fumbling toward her, wand raised and face frightening.

_ And yet there was one perhaps but one thing of which Narcissa could still be certain. It was the thinnest blade that cut the best._

With one final, meaningful glance at Bellatrix, Narcissa disappeared with a resolute _pop_ that echoed in the room that the sisters left empty.


End file.
